


Slow Love

by Daughter_of_the_Mountains



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Bad Parenting With Good Intentions, Forced Marriage, Multi, Slow Burn, unhappy relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5646508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_the_Mountains/pseuds/Daughter_of_the_Mountains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwarrowdams are rare and certain lines must be furthered by any means, using fertile sons and daughters. But when a Dwarf and Dwarrowdam with no love for each other get forced into a marriage, certain lines cannot be furthered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unhappy Beginning

Neither bride nor groom had appeared yet. Their parents looked at each other and then at the doors, through which one of the soon-to-be newlyweds should have appeared long ago. Finally, the father of the groom stood. His name was Gróin and 92 years ago, he had been made to wed, too, so he could understand his youngest son being hesitant. Marriage was forever. But the girl, Neoma, was from a good family, a lower branch of a noble family tree and she was fertile, able to bear grandchildren, maybe even a _daughter_. 

He knocked on the changing room door which stood at the very back of the White Halls. No answer. He opened the door and peeked inside.

"Ah, son, why aren't you dressed?"

"I am dressed." Glóin muttered sourly. 

"In the scruffiest tunic you own. Come on, little ruby. The robes cost a lot of money and you'll look less like a stableboy and more of a young lord."

"I don't _want_ to get married, Da! It's not fair, make Óin marry _her!_ He's your firstborn, not me!"

Gróin cleared his throat, feeling rather uncomfortable. "I know, but he can't have children. You can."

"I don't want children! Horrible, screamy little things."

"Lad, _please_. Get changed, get drunk _before_ the ceremony, for all I care, but you _are_ getting married _today_ and that is the end of it."

"Is _she_ there?"

"The bride appears after the groom. Get dressed."

 _"You_ get dressed! You're clearly able to have children, why don't _you_ marry _her?"_

Feeling as though he'd aged several hundred years already, Gróin answered as patiently as he was able; "I can't be married to _two_ women. Get dressed _now."_

 His secondborn gave him a very bitter look but started peeling off his ratty tunic and put on the silken robes of the deep blue of their House. Despite what Gróin had said about him looking more of a young lord, all he could think was that he had been wrong. His youngest son looked like he always did regardless of what he wore. Young.

"It'll be fine." Gróin said. "You'll warm up to each other soon enough."

"I can't believe you're forcing me into this. You used to call me precious and irreplaceable. Now you send me to some woman just so you get grandchildren. Well, she won't ever bear my children!"

"Laddie, don't make this a battle. You're very lucky, you know. Women are rare."

"So are children!

 "I'm sorry that getting married to a beautiful, fertile young woman is so daunting to you."

Glóin scowled at him and left the room,  refusing to look at him. Gróin sighed loudly. Today was going to be a very long day. 

 


	2. Allied Night

He could feel their eyes trained upon him. He wished someone; Uncle Fundin, his father, his mother, someone would stand up and protest this sham of a wedding. He looked up at the bejewelled ceiling, trying to count the shining gems. He'd learned some time ago that there were over a hundred diamonds glittering down at them. Since turning 50, he'd had less time to count for fun. His father was trying to train him to become a treasurer, like him. Numbers soothed him, counting calmed him.

"Do you, Glóin son of Gróin, son of Farin, descendant of Durin the Deathless, take Neoma, daughter of Alrik, son of Nänti, descendant of Mâorn of the Broadbeams to be your wife, your One, your intended from now until you return to stone?"

 _'No!'_  Glóin thought. "Yes," he said reluctantly. 

"Please face your bride."

 _'I hope she stabs me in the chest and my father will have to live with the guilt of having ended his own son's life,'_ he thought bitterly, but he obeyed. In Dwarven tradition, she had been covered in a large cloth of soft blue silk, embroidered with gold thread, sapphire and emerald jewels glittering on the sea of deep blue. Green was the colour of the Broadbeams. He would have to remove the cloth tonight before consummation of marriage, but until then, she was covered.

"Do you, Neoma daughter of Alrik, son of Nänti, descendant of Mâorn of the Broadbeams take Glóin son of Gróin son of Farin, descendant of Durin the Deathless to be your husband, your One, your intended from now until you return to stone?"

"Yes," a whisper came from the blue figure. It was so quiet, so ashamed almost of being there that he forgot to be angry and remembered that she, too, had been pushed into a marriage. He gently touched what he thought was her shoulder and discovered her to be as tense as stone, but her head which had been bowed, raised itself. 

"Very well," said the juzral, who had,no doubt, overseen many of these types of affairs. "Have you any promises to make to your bride?"

 _'If she tries to run in the night, I promise I won't stop her,'_ he thought to himself. But to say that would have brought fury upon him, so he said the first thing that came to mind. "I promise that if we ever have children, I will not force them to wed if they are fertile. If I forsake this promise, do me the honour of killing me where I stand."

She lifted her head. In a soft voice, she spoke. "I promise. Do me the same."

The juzral didn't know quite what to say, that much was clear. He blinked and held over the gold brocade pillow, upon which two rings lay. They had been given the task of picking one for the other, Hers was of green onyx, a large, round, faceted, glittering example which he had mined himself, welded on top of a thick, gold band. His had a square red sapphire, made of a duller, but gleaming gold metal. He carefully placed it upon her finger, having felt a sense of camaraderie with this new wife of his. Underneath the cloth, he could have sworn she was smiling.

* * *

 

"Are you really so angry about being married?" his wife - Neoma - asked, when they were seated during the wedding feast.

"Not with you, if it helps. I just think we should be able to choose our own spouses."

She nodded. "I feel like a winter solstice gift, wrapped up like this."

"So take it off."

She looked toward him. _"I'm not wearing anything underneath."_

"You're joking! They didn't give you _smallclothes_ even?"

"Even if they had, I wouldn't sit here in my smallclothes."

"I would. It'd serve my father bloody right!"

"Your father would keel over in shock. And horror, too."

"You're a very unkind wife." He looked at her again. "It makes me feel strange, talking to someone I cannot see. Can we go now? I only want to look upon the face of the one I'll be spending my whole life with."   
She nodded and stood up. They joined hands and slipped out of the hall, miraculously being seen by no one.

* * *

 

They slowed down as they approached their chambers.

"You- you won't make me, will you?" Neoma whispered.

"No. I would _never_ do that to you. Maybe _that_ should have been my vow."

She shook her veiled head. "No. I liked your vow. I found it very agreeable." She reached for the door handle, her wedding band making a clink sound as it came into contact and a wave of heat came over them. The fire was lit and, best of all, there was a large jug of wine and two gold goblets sitting on the table. She filled up the goblets while he shut the door and they both sat before it, drinking in the warmth as well as the wine.

"Do you want children?" Neoma questioned after their third helping. By now they felt fully at ease with the other, their hands intertwined as though by themselves.

"I don't know. Until recently, I didn't think I could have them."

 

"We have time," she said.

"What about you?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure I want any right now. My grandmother said I was being selfish because women have a limited time to bear children."

"Ignore that old battleaxe. There's nothing selfish about biding your time." He rolled his shoulders, making a cracking sound. The heavy leathers and velvets of his layers were making him tense and ache.

"Don't do that!" Neoma said sharply. "Let me help you get  these off." 

She started with the blue velvet overcoat, and then unbuttoned the stiff leather undercoat, got rid of the silver armour he'd forgotten he'd had on and then pulled off his green silken tunic. Underneath, he wore nothing to hide the thick auburn hair sprouting over his chest and stomach. She placed her hand over his chest. 

"You're even hairier than  _I_ am." 

He smiled and then peered at her. "Can I see you now, please?"

She nodded and stood, pulling him by his hands to join her. She turned to reveal a small sapphire button in the small of her back. He unbuttoned it carefully and the garb fell away. Copper hair fell to the middle of her thighs and he noticed fine, delicate copper hair, like wire, drizzled over the back of her legs. He noticed the width and strength of her thickly muscled shoulders and stepped in front of her to gaze upon her face for the first time.   
The first thing he noticed was her beard. The exact shade of her hair, it was braided to join the tresses cascading from her head and there was a third lock that was braided and hung between her full breasts which were also covered in a thick forest of hair. He looked at her face and saw a pair of lips, the shade of peach, and a pair of bright amber eyes. Her ears were pierced with diamonds and in her nose was a small, pale sapphire.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was just nature. Whatever it was, suddenly their lips met and he could feel the warm weight of her left breast in his hand and was aware of her hands pulling at the laces that held his breeches together. She pushed him onto the sofa and straddled him, slowly grinding upon him, keeping their bodies close. He grasped her hair and arched his back and the two inhaled sharply at a sensation that was new and wonderful in equal measures as they became one for the very first time.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happened here is that they both get that this marriage was not the other's idea and there is physical attraction (and they both got drunk), so they ended up bedding each other. Things about marriage get each other down and they start resenting each other a lot before things get better.
> 
> Here's the other thing - they do end up loving each other a whole lot by the end.


End file.
